


Cherry Blossom Flowerfall

by orphan_account



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 06:59:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4950991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the tip of my fingers to the stars above, where ever you go, I will follow. If it means baring my heart to you, if it means baring my soul, if it means you will do so in return, I will follow. If you let me, to forever, to the ends of the earth, to the bottom of your stone cold heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flopyxing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flopyxing/gifts).



> I promised Red that I would write her something if she finished her Yixing birthday week drabbles, and she has. This is the beginning of something that we spoke about, and I'm going to bring it to life. Please understand that updates will be sporadic. I will only complete my 'A' levels at the end of November, thus, real life comes first.

“Goodnight, Jongin.”

 

“Wait, wait, papa!”

 

Jongdae turned around from where he was standing in the doorway to look at his son. Jongin blinked up at him, eyes wide and hopeful, not at all sleepy. He stretched his hand out to his father, quickly clenching and unclenching his fist.

 

“Papa, tell me a bedtime story?”

 

There was a small chuckle, and Jongdae made his way back to his son’s bed. He sat down beside his child, tucking him in a little more and shifted so that Jongin could snuggle his way into the crook of Jongdae’s arm. Jongin sniffed, burying the side of his face into Jongdae’s tummy, and Jongdae laughed.

 

“What story do you want me to tell you, then?”

 

Jongin scrunched his face up, thinking. “The one about the cheetah, the eagle and the wolf!”

 

Jongdae laughed again, tugging his son even closer to his side. “You’ve heard that one so many times, Nini. Are you sure you don’t want to hear a new one?”

 

“Nope!” Jongin declared grandly. “I want that one! Please, papa, please?”

  
Sighing, Jongdae pressed a kiss to Jongin’s forehead, to which he received a happy giggle. “Once upon a time, there lived a cheetah, an eagle and a wolf.”


	2. On the Wings

Junmyeon looked up when there was a knock on his room door. He knew, instinctively, who was calling him for. A second later, a voice rang, confirming his suspicions. “The Emperor is asking for you, Concubine Kim.”

“I will be out in a few moments. Please make sure His Majesty is comfortable before I get there.”

“Of course.”

While Junmyeon wasn’t in much of a position to be able to tell the servants what to do, they knew him well enough to know that it was more a request than a command. At this point, Junmyeon was friends with most of the castle staff, and for those who didn’t like him, well, it was almost already confirmed that Jongdae would take Junmyeon as his Royal Consort, so no one really wanted to go against him.

Junmyeon stood up and went to the mirror, preparing himself to visit Jongdae. While he spent most of his nights in the Emperor’s chambers, during the day, when Jongdae was too busy with state affairs to relax, Junmyeon often retreated to his room to bathe, and to groom himself. He always had to look the best for his Emperor, of course.

He splashed water onto his face, wiping it dry with a cloth. Jongdae always liked it better when he was himself, the bare faced Kim Junmyeon rather than the flawlessly made up Concubine Kim. He changed into his silk robes, tugged on a cloak that would hide his body, and then made his way up to his Emperor’s chambers.

Knocking on the door in his signature knock - three fast raps, a beat, then a last knock - Junmyeon waited for Jongdae’s voice to allow him entrance. Once given, Junmyeon slid into the room to see Jongdae on his bed, already dressed down to sleep, his long hair falling over a shoulder. He held his hand out to Junmyeon, palm up, a clear invitation, smiling softly. Junmyeon moved over to his Emperor and gave his hand, allowing Jongdae to press a kiss to his knuckles. “Junmyeon,” Jongdae murmured, his lips ghosting over his skin.

“Your Majesty,” Junmyeon returned, ensuring that the other was comfortable before letting Jongdae lead him up to the bed. Junmyeon leaned against the headboard, letting Jongdae squirm down his body to rest his head on his chest, and he relaxed. Here, now, they were not Emperor and Concubine, merely Jongdae and Junmyeon. Here, he need not bother with formalities. He ran his fingers through Jongdae’s hair, watching it fall over his face, the long strands he knew cascaded down Jongdae’s back when he was standing. “You should get a haircut soon, Jongdae.”

Jongdae gave a noncommittal grunt, nuzzling into Junmyeon’s stomach as though he could physically bury himself into it. Junmyeon sighed in contentment, pressing a kiss to the crown of Jongdae’s head, inhaling the spicy shampoo that the Emperor preferred to use over all else. “Tired?” Junmyeon inquired.

“Mm,” Jongdae returned. His voice was low, a lot less energy in it than he normally had. “There’re troops on our borders, Junmyeon. We still don’t know what their purpose is yet, but it’s bad. Everyone’s worried and we can’t figure out what’s going on.” Jongdae’s forehead was furrowed, and Junmyeon placed a finger there and rubbed until Jongdae relaxed. “Thanks,” Jongdae muttered, then sighed in exasperation. “I don’t want anything to happen to the country, Junmyeon.”

Junmyeon shifted, adjusting Jongdae’s pliant body so that Jongdae was lying on his stomach, plastered to Junmyeon’s front. He brought his arms back around Jongdae to press into the tense muscles just above Jongdae’s shoulder blades. Jongdae moaned in appreciation, resting his chin on Junmyeon’s shoulder, nose brushing against his neck.

“Nothing will,” Junmyeon reassured, turning his head to kiss Jongdae’s cheek. “As long as you’re taking care of the country, everything will be okay.”

“You think so?” Jongdae asked, and the insecurity in his voice hit Junmyeon hard. Jongdae had always been one of the most confident people he knew. He removed one hand from Jongdae’s back to tilt the Emperor’s head towards him, and he looked him in the eye. “I know so,” He responded, and leaned in to kiss him.

Jongdae hummed into the kiss, one hand coming up to cup Junmyeon’s cheek, moving their lips slowly against each other’s, savouring the moment. Jongdae made a content noise in the back of his throat, and he slowly climbed over Junmyeon, sitting himself in Junmyeon’s lap with his legs on either side of Junmyeon’s waist. “Thank you,” Jongdae whispered, softly, against Junmyeon’s lips. “Thank you for trusting in me.”

Junmyeon wrapped his arms around Jongdae’s waist, pulling him closer, sighing in contentment at the warmth of his lover. “Always.”

A smile spread on Jongdae’s face, and he continued to kiss Junmyeon, soft and affectionate. He slowly undulated his hips against Junmyeon’s, moaning breathlessly. Shivering when he felt Junmyeon’s hands run down his sides, he pulled away from the kiss to lean his forehead against Junmyeon’s, panting. “Take care of me?” He asked, getting up onto his knees to shed his robes. “My Consort.”

Junmyeon’s breath hitched at the term. He knew how Jongdae felt about him, knew that Jongdae would soon take him as his Royal Consort, but to hear the term, the term used as an endearment and not a title, from the lips of the very man he would give his entire life for, to hear it fall from Jongdae’s lips was a blessing in itself. He smiled, so brightly that Jongdae felt he was looking at the sun, and brought Jongdae down against him.

Yes, he thought, hands quickly divesting Jongdae of his robes, the Emperor’s hands equally impatient in removing his own sheer ones. I’ll take care of you. Now till forever. I always will, Jongdae.

 

 

 

It wasn’t as smooth sailing as they’d wanted it to be, in the end. Even though Junmyeon wanted to take care of Jongdae, he wasn’t a general, he wasn’t someone who could fight. He was just a concubine, someone without the ability to protect his Emperor.

“Junmyeon,” Jongdae said, leaning his head against the back of the couch he was sitting on. “Play for me?”

Junmyeon watched Jongdae for a while, watched the natural curls of his lips disappear into a straight, pressed line, watched his brows furrow in frustration, watched the way his entire body seemed to sag. Then he pressed a quick kiss to Jongdae’s forehead and made his way over to the piano, adjusting his posture and hovering his fingers over the keys.

It wasn’t done yet, Junmyeon knew, the tune that he was composing for Jongdae, but he wanted the other to hear it nevertheless. He pressed down on the keys, letting the music take him, letting the notes flow, letting the affection that he held for Jongdae explode from his being, swaying with the tunes, with the beats. When he reached the end of his incomplete composition, Junmyeon improvised. He let the melody run through him as he played, jarring notes that transcended into playful ones, reaching a crescendo then quickly starting over again.

“You’re amazing,” Jongdae whispered reverently, once Junmyeon had finished with his piece. Junmyeon turned around, his eyes locking onto the form of the one he loved, the one he had played for, and he shook his head.

“You’re the amazing one.”

Jongdae laughed at this, and while normally Junmyeon loved to hear Jongdae’s laughter, this one was self deprecating, almost mocking. Jongdae looked as though Junmyeon had just cracked the joke of the century at his expense, and Junmyeon didn’t understand.

“Amazing?” Jongdae asked, almost rhetorically. “I can’t even protect my own country, Junmyeon. What kind of Emperor can’t even protect his own borders?”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re going to attack,” Jongdae says, shaking his head. “The Country of Zhang. They’re going to invade, and the diplomats that we’ve sent to try to negotiate either come back with negative answers or don’t return at all. My advisors refuse to let me assess the situation for myself, and I get it, I understand that my life might be endangered if I go to the border to try to speak with the people myself, but they want me to just sit here and do nothing while my people might die out there!”

Junmyeon quickly crossed to room to wrap his arms around Jongdae. The Emperor was obviously distressed by the whole situation, and while Junmyeon was terribly, terribly afraid for the country, he was also selfish, because there was no way that he was going to allow Jongdae to go to the border, not when it was possible that he would be assassinated. Junmyeon knew he had no power to keep Jongdae here, but he would try, would try his very best, throw away his dignity if he had to, if it meant that he would be able to keep Jongdae safe.

It was all that he could do, after all.

“We’re going to be okay, Jongdae,” Junmyeon whispered, tucking the other’s head under his chin. Jongdae was so young, so beautiful and so full of life, it hurt to see him like this, so obviously distressed, unable to help his country. “We’re going to be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how short the chapter is, but it was necessary to kick start the plot.


	3. Against his Beloved

“Your Majesty, please!” Luhan calls after his Emperor as the other giggles to himself and rounds the corner. “Your Majesty, we need to discuss- Your Majesty!”

 

Said Emperor continues to run from his harried Advisor, holding up his silk robes so he doesn’t trip. He knew that there were things that they had to discuss, really, and he knew that there were certain - a lot - of responsibilities that he held as the Emperor of his country, but sometimes he just wanted to be a child.

 

A child being chastised was not on his list, Yixing thinks, as he runs smack into the body of his General, and is held around the waist with his back to the larger man as Luhan finally manages to catch up to him, the doe eyed male panting even as he glared.

 

“Your Majesty!”

 

“Are you running around recklessly again, Your Majesty?” Yifan rumbles in amusement, and Yixing turned around to pout at him. It would probably have worked a lot better had Yifan not grown up with the Emperor, and was thus used to the sad, wet eyes that Yixing always liked to use on him.

 

“He is,” Luhan confirms. Honestly, he wasn’t made for this. He was an Advisor, why was he running around chasing the Emperor? Really. “Your Majesty, we really do have things we need to discuss, here. One of which,” And here, Luhan throws a pointed look at his Emperor. “Concerns the Country of Kim.”

 

Yixing swallows at that. He was running away because of that reason. The Country of Kim was falling to pieces, Yixing knew, and there was nothing that he could do. He wasn’t in close contact with the Emperor, as much as he’d like to be, and it hurt that he was only going to be able to watch the land of his beloved fall.

 

“You’ve harbored a long time love for His Highness, have you not?” Yifan asks, leading Yixing back to the throne room so that the younger one could sit and ponder. “It may not be in your best interests to do anything right now, Your Majesty, but perhaps you could help to save the Country of Kim?”

 

“How?” Yixing sighs, even as he waves his Ministers away. They were old, used to tradition, and Yixing did not like listening to them ramble about things that Luhan could summarise in minutes. “You know that we cannot be allies, Yifan; The other countries would see it as a military alliance - the Country of Choi, especially - and we would be under attack.”

 

“Attack,” Yifan muses. “Perhaps that is the answer.”

 

Luhan’s head snaps up to the General, and he hisses. “You want us to _invade_ the Country of Kim?”

 

Yifan pins Yixing to the throne with his stare. “Your Majesty, if you want to save the Country of Kim, I do believe this is your only way. Take the country under ours, rule over it, and the land can prosper once more.”

 

“You’re saying it like Jongdae drove the country into the ground!” Yixing snaps, unhappy, defending Jongdae even though he knows, rationally, Yifan didn’t mean it that way, and honestly, what right does Yixing have to be so vehement, anyway? “Jongdae does the best he can-”

 

Luhan places a hand on Yixing’s arm to placate him. “You know that’s not what he meant, Your Majesty,” Luhan soothes, and Yixing’s fury dissipates.

 

“I’m sorry, Yifan,” Yixing gives, tired beyond belief. “I shouldn’t have blown up at you for something like that.”

 

“It’s quite alright, Your Majesty,” Yifan smiles, and he places a small kiss onto Yixing’s forehead. “You must be stressed out. It’s late; You should prepare for your evening meal, and rest early. We’ll talk about this tomorrow, if that’s okay with you?”

 

Yixing smiles sadly up at his best friends, and curls into Luhan when his advisor tugs him close to lead him to his room. “Yes, thank you.”

 

The two of them say nothing, but Yixing doesn’t need an answer.

 

* * *

 

Tomorrow comes far too soon for Yixing, and before he knows it, it’s already the next morning and he’s being whisked away into the throne room to meet with his ministers. There’s a lot of mundane complaints from them, fat men who have nothing better to do than go bald while spending their money on things that don’t benefit their provinces, and Yixing wants to fire all of them, but he knows that doing so would cause a nation wide uproar, so he keeps his mouth shut.

 

“I would like some time alone with my Advisor and General,” Yixing says, and the ministers fall silent for a moment, before they start babbling again.

 

“What is it, Your Majesty?”

 

“Please include us in the discussion, Your Majesty, we could be of-”

 

“Silence!” Yixing commands, his eyes sharp and voice stern. It’s the power of the throne, the power of being born a Zhang, one that he owns but hardly wields. This time, however, he has no choice but to make use of it. He feels Luhan’s calming hand on his shoulder and relaxes internally, but on the outside he knows that he cannot let go, that he cannot show them any sign of weakness, or he’ll be taken advantage of. It’s a cruel society that he lives in, yes, but this was something that Yixing was born into.

 

“Leave, all of you,” Yifan snaps, and it’s the anger of the General that coupled with the glare of their Emperor that finally gets the men to move. They trickle out slowly, leaving Yixing to stare daggers when they do turn around to attempt to convince him to let them stay, only to close their mouths immediately when they see how serious he is about the requested privacy.

 

“About our decision to invade the Country of Kim,” Yixing starts, swallowing. It’s not something that he would particularly like to discuss, but he’d thought about it long and hard last night, tossing and turning in his sleeping, causing the dark circles beneath his eyes that Yifan had traced in concern the moment he’d seen him that morning. “About-” He swallows again, almost trembling.

 

Luhan immediately moves in front of Yixing, dropping to his knees in front of his Emperor, his childhood friend. He reaches out to cup Yixing’s face gently, but Yixing shakes his head. He cannot continue to rely on Luhan and Yifan the way that he had for so long now. He’d inherited the throne, he was the Emperor now. There were things that he had to do for the country, and there were things that he had to do for himself. Neither of these things would allow him to continue to constantly depend on his two childhood friends.

 

“No,” Yixing refuses, shaking Luhan’s hand away. Luhan’s eyes flash with hurt, making Yixing grab onto his hands, but his eyes are determined, his posture still straight. He can almost feel Yifan’s worry, but he’s the Emperor. Even if he were the youngest in this trio, even if he had been taken care of by Yifan and Luhan since he was a child, he could no longer be. “This is something that I have to do. I cannot keep depending on you and Yifan to make decisions for me and for the country. There are things that I need to do, and invading the Country of Kim is one of them.”

 

Neither Yifan nor Luhan say anything for a moment, then Luhan chuckles lowly. “You’ve grown up, Xing,” He comments, head tilting a little in nostalgia as he crinkles his eyes at his Emperor. His hand, previously slapped away, now comes to cup Yixing’s face. He sees a young boy, far in his memory, small, chubby and mischievous, and he sees his Emperor now.

 

Jiashuai’s personality was so utterly different from Yixing, but in the end, Luhan thinks, they are one and the same.

 

Yifan rests his hand on Yixing’s hair, and the younger man turns his head up to look at his General. Yifan smiles gummily, making Yixing laugh. They quickly sober up when Yixing remembers what had led to this moment, and he takes a deep breath, slowly letting it out. This is something that he should do for his country, and it’s also something that he wants to do for himself.

 

Perhaps, Yixing thinks, it’s time to kill two birds with one stone.

 

“You’ll be able to prepare the battle tactics, yes?” Yixing questions, and Yifan makes a face that has the other two giggling. Despite his fierce look and terrifying demeanor, Yifan is, in the end, a dork.

 

“Who do you take me for?” He asks in return, offended that Yixing even had to ask such a statement. “Ungrateful child.” He sniffs regally, as though he were the Emperor here and not Yixing. Yixing sticks out his tongue in the very image of the child that he was called, and Yifan smiles gently back at him. “Of course I’ll be able to. Have I not done so for many years, now?”

 

“You have indeed,” Yixing returns, proud. He’s proud of his friends, of their accomplishments, whether alone or together. He is, however, the most so because despite everything going against them - Yixing having been born Zhang Jiashuai, the Crown Prince of the Country of Zhang, Yifan having been born to a servant in the kitchens and Luhan having been born to a noble that had since lost his title - despite their statuses at birth being entirely different, they’d managed to stay together. They’d begun as a trio, and they would end, Yixing swears, as a trio. “I trust you.”

 

Yifan makes another face at the cheesy moment, and they start giggling again, like children. Yixing turns to Luhan then, eyes a little sad. “You’ll help me out with the minister’s, right? They’ll be trying to set me on fire once they learn about our plans.”

 

Luhan returns the smile, patting Yixing lightly on the cheek, as though Yixing were still a child. “Of course. That’s what I’m here for, right?”

 

Yixing sighs in relief, smiling as his General and Advisor return to their spots, on either side of his throne but standing slightly behind him. He balls his fists into his robes even as Luhan calls for the ministers to return to the throne room.

 

“Your Majesty,” The ministers bow, and Yixing waves his hand to get them to sit in their position. He lets his eyes roam across all of them, taking note of the ones that usually give him more trouble just because he was crowned at a young age, and which ones would give him more support. Politics are a game that Yixing hates playing but has no choice but to do so.

 

Yixing stands up and stares down at his subjects. They are, Yixing thinks, and it finally registers to him. These men are his subjects. He’s the Emperor. The ministers are there to give their input, but ultimately, they are all his subjects. He’s the most powerful man in this country, and if any of them want anything to happen, he has to approve it first.

 

He realizes that he hasn’t ever commanded their respect much in the past because he’d never thought about the fact that he was the _Emperor_. For so long he’d hid behind Yifan and Luhan’s shadows, for so long he’d allowed his ministers to make decisions as they wished, allowed them to push him into giving them what they wanted, pressuring him into giving in.

 

No, Yixing thinks, not anymore. He had been born Zhang Jiashuai, yes, the small boy with all the dreams of just running around in the palace courtyard with Wu Yifan and Luhan, but then he’d had to take on the weight of the crown, and with the physical weight of it came the weight on his shoulders: Responsibility. He’d then been posthumously named Zhang Yixing, Emperor of the Country of Zhang. He’d never really taken his posthumous name seriously, always thinking with the mind of Zhang Jiashuai, of the boy who only wanted to be a normal boy. He’d never, he realizes now, really understood the weight of what it felt like to be an Emperor.

 

Not anymore. Yixing clenches his fists in determination. He thinks of his country, of the people who look up to him. He thinks of the peasants living in the countryside, and how they would benefit from this. He thinks of the citizens in the Country of Kim, starving, wounded, liable to being entirely overthrown by others, especially the Country of Choi. He thinks of his parents, how they had smiled at him, even as Emperor and Empress, kind parents until they’d perished in an accident that had taken both their lives. He thinks of Luhan and Yifan, who’d stayed by his side for so long, now.

 

Yixing thinks of a kitten-like smile, of happy laughter echoing, of crinkled eyes, of a melodious voice, of mischievous calls of the names of others, and he makes his decision. With the image of his beloved’s face in his mind and the sound of his laughter in his ears, Yixing declares war against the man he loves.

  
“We’re invading the Country of Kim.”


End file.
